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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25122112">Red Wine-Stained Lips</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/alxxiis/pseuds/alxxiis'>alxxiis</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Caught in Our Silence [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:13:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>864</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25122112</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/alxxiis/pseuds/alxxiis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Brynjolf and Anya spend a drunk, leisurely night relaxing haphazardly on the canal gate.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brynjolf (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s), Brynjolf/Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Brynjolf/Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Caught in Our Silence [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1595398</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Red Wine-Stained Lips</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“It’s eerie,” Brynjolf said, swaying a tad as his legs dangled over the canal gate.</p><p>Anya sat beside him with a crate of more wine teetering precariously on the gate’s edge between them.</p><p>A light breeze carried over the water, bringing with it a refreshing mist that settled on Anya’s warmed cheeks. She ran her tongue over her lips and caught any droplets of wine that remained. She loved nights like this, and though she was used to spending them alone, she’d found herself growing more and more fond of the Nord’s company. Sharing tales of past exploits, bragging about well-known now-dead nobles she had robbed, a few she had killed, hearing about his successes and failures when he’d first been taken in by Gallus, seeing his face light up as he reminisced.</p><p>After a long drink from the bottle of wine she’d nabbed from Maven’s personal store (not that she told Brynjolf), Anya asked, “What’s eerie?”</p><p>“How red your mouth is,” he replied. He gestured vaguely toward her face. “It looks like blood.”</p><p>She laughed and took another drink, careful not to lick away the lingering color, just to tease him. “I promise you. It does not.”</p><p>He snorted softly, a noise she’d never heard out of him before. “It does to me.”</p><p>“How hard is that wine hitting you?” she asked, tilting her head to see how much remained in the bottle.</p><p>“Not that hard,” he said, pulling it away from her. “Though it’s likely doing more for me than you. Can vampires even get drunk?”</p><p>Anya shrugged and finished her bottle, letting it fall into the water. “It takes a bit more, but I’ve certainly never had an issue.”</p><p>Comfortable silence fell between them. Anya watched the starlight dance across the water’s surface, disappearing in ripples that were interrupted by the far island. Goldenglow. The job that truly set her life on this strange course: the familiar symbol, more dealings with Maven, the feeling that this was tied with Ophira’s death in some manner… Anya shook her head. No point in obsessing over it when she was three bottles deep into very expensive wine.</p><p>“What’s on your mind?” Brynjolf asked.</p><p>She waved him off. “Just admiring the view,” she said, glancing over at the red-headed Nord.</p><p>“Well, well,” he said. “The lass is a romantic.”</p><p>“You take that back,” she replied, feigning offense.</p><p>With a light chuckle, she reached over to grab another bottle just as Brynjolf did the same. Their movements more harsh, driven by the alcohol, caused their bottles to knock against each other and the ones remaining. Despite her superhuman speed, Anya wasn’t able to grab the crate or her bottle before it dropped into the canal.</p><p>“Shit,” she hissed.</p><p>They both stared as the freed bottles bobbed in the disturbed water, as if willing them to return.</p><p>“I’m not getting them,” Brynjolf announced. He popped the cork of his bottle and took a long drink.</p><p>“It’s your fault,” Anya retorted.</p><p>He laughed. “Oh no, that was your fault,” he teased. “What kind of vampire can’t catch something that’s falling?”</p><p>“You’re about to be the one falling,” she muttered. “You’ll share that, right?”</p><p>Again, he laughed. “I don’t think so, lass. Your share is down there.”</p><p>With a pout, she carefully inched closer to him, icy blue eyes wide, offering her best attempt at a puppy-dog expression.</p><p>“Please?”</p><p>“Do you really think that would work on a con-man?” he asked, his brow raised.</p><p>She slid closer, her leg pressed against his.</p><p>“But I was the one who brought them.”</p><p>“And you can be the one to bring them back,” he retorted, pointing down at the water.</p><p>Her body twisted, and she placed her far hand just above his knee as her other gripped the gate to keep her steady. Fingers pressed into his leather-clad thigh as she slowly slid up his leg.</p><p>“Anya. You’re playing dirty,” he said, a smirk on his lips and his voice a tad deeper.</p><p>“I always play dirty,” she purred.</p><p>She leaned in slightly, and just as she hoped, he followed. Green eyes hooded, his red wine-stained lips a hair’s breadth away from hers, the scent of the alcohol on his breath filling her useless lungs.</p><p>“Still won’t share?” she whispered, her lips close enough to just barely brush his as she spoke.</p><p>He smirked, eyes almost closed. “Never.”</p><p>Before giving him the opportunity to press into her, she twisted further past him and reached out for the bottle, hoping to take him by surprise. She was partly right. He jerked back, instinctively pulling away from someone who attempted to steal from him and grabbing her arm with the hand that had been holding onto the gate. With the sudden movement and no way of balancing himself, Brynjolf let out a yelp as he fell backward, taking Anya with him into the cold, dirty canal water.</p><p>They resurfaced and wiped the water from their faces. Brynjolf coughed a few times before throwing a dirty look at Anya who was already well into a bottle of the wine that had fallen.</p><p>She caught his gaze and shrugged. “I suppose we don’t have to share.”</p>
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